Lamia
by twigletmoo
Summary: DMHP, WIP, slight AU, PG at the moment – Draco has a secret, a secret that’s been in his family for centuries, and now he wants Harry...
1. Dear Diary

Disclaimer – All of these delicious characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and I do not own them, I am only borrowing them for a while, and not making any money from this site or the fanfiction on it. Please don't sue me – I promise I won't hurt them...much...

A/N – Okay, bear with me, guys, this is my first fanfiction, so be kind... There are varying points of view and I don't really know where it's going, so if there is something you wanna see, review and maybe your wish will come true...

Oooh, a slash warning here too...as I said I don't know where the story is going, but there is a possibility of slash (that's m/m pairing, for all you newbies to ff). If you don't like it, don't read it...

Lamia – Chapter 1 

Draco POV.

August 25th 

Opening Shot. Me, standing topless in front of the opulently gilded mirror in my private bathroom of Malfoy Manor. God! I look gorgeous!

Pale, ivory skin, not a blemish, not a mark, unspoilt, unbroken, perfect skin. It hasn't always been that way, but I guess I heal fast. My long blond hair is swept back and tied at the nape of my neck with a simple leather band. I prefer it long, easier to hide behind, if I so choose.

I've been working out, you can tell. My torso, once pale and skinny, whilst still being beautiful, or course, is now toned and shapely. I trace my hand over my chest, feeling it rise and fall with my breath. Yes, my skin is perfectly smooth, my muscles are toned, so that I am strong, but still remain...ah, what's the word? Refined. Yes, I like that. Draco Malfoy, sophisticated, elegant, refined. No-one would ever guess that I am a monster. That I am, against my will, a hunter, at the very top of the food chain.

I sigh, and look into the pair of grey eyes that stare back at me out of the mirror. They set off the whole effect, shimmering, catching the light and reflecting it back. My eyes roam again over the image before me. Exquisite. With a body like this I could have anyone I wanted. Anyone.

So tell me, my dear Draco, why do you want Harry Potter? 

September 7th 

Well, we've been back at school for a week now, and may I just say, my dearest Diary, it has been pure torture. I only want him, my green-eyed, raven-haired sex-god, because he's the last person in the world who would ever give in to me. Me!

Even if he knew the truth... knew what I was, he would never come willingly. And why not, I hear you ask, dear Diary. Am I not handsome? Am I not beautiful? With my silky blonde hair and my well formed body? Oh, I know I'm vain, but so what?! There are precious few in this world who would love me for who, no ... *what* I am.

And even if he knew, he would never understand. Humans can't cope with much. The most trivial things to me are like huge mountainous hurdles to them.

For example, he would never understand that there are some things that transcend sex. He's probably never even considered being with a man, let alone doing the things that I want to do to him.

But could I force him? No, it's not my way. I've seen those who've been forced, against their will...it destroys them in the end. Painfully.

But perhaps there is another way...


	2. Things That Go Bump In The Corridor

Disclaimer – All characters still belong to J.K. Rowling. I am borrowing them for my own devious purposes, but she can have them back as soon as I've finished playing!

A/N – Okay, do you ever start a ff, publish the first chapter, then want to take it in a different direction than you've set up? It's so grrr when that happens. It seems to be happening to me here, I've started this, my first ff, but now I want to do something else... I have always been crap with decisions... like, who do I want to pair up? Should I introduce a new character? Should I make it slashy? And so on...

Thank you to those who reviewed:

§ Kimi-sama – I didn't think they were always female – maybe the myth is, but my Lamia ideas come from LJ Smiths Nightworld Series.

§ IBitTheMufinMan – okay, I shall continue!! Thanks for the encouragement! 

§ Layce74  - Thank you! *grins at 'pooter screen*

§ Beth Weasley – The clue is in the title... *winks*

So, as always, review, let me know what you think!

Lamia – Chapter 2 

"Harry!" said Ron. "Harry, wake up, we've got potions in 20 minutes! Get up!" he continued, throwing a pillow at his best friend's head.

Harry sat up, and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. Squinting, he reached for his glasses and peered up at his friend. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" he asked, climbing out of bed and into his slippers and dressing gown.

"We tried to, mate, really, we did. You were dead to the world," replied Ron.

Yawning, Harry made his way to the bathroom to have a quick wash before pulling on his school clothes and robes.

Realising the others had already left, Harry hurried out of Gryffindor Tower and headed downstairs towards the dungeons. As he walked, he thought about the dream from which Ron had woken him. He remembered it being very comfortable. One that he did not want to wake from. _Makes a change_ thought Harry darkly. He was in the Forbidden Forest, or at least one like it, only it wasn't dark and claustrophobic like it usually was. It was green and lush, with a pleasant breeze sweeping through the tops of the trees. It was summer, and the sun shone down into the clearing where Harry sat. Harry was waiting for someone in this dream. Someone he loved very much, and someone who loved Harry just as much. Harry tried to hold on to the images from his dream, curious as to who his love might be. He remembered squinting through the trees, and seeing someone coming towards him, someone blonde... too far, can't see...

"Malfoy" Harry blurted out, as he rounded a corner in the dungeons, and crashed into someone headed in the same direction as he was. "What are you doing here?"

"Being late, Potter. Like you, by the looks of it..." responded Draco, allowing a bit of acidity to taint his words. It wouldn't do for Potter to get the wrong idea. The idea that maybe Draco had been waiting just around that corner for Hogwart's Golden Boy to show up and *accidentally* crash into the back of him. The truth was, Draco just had to see him, had to have a chance to talk to him, even if it was merely exchanging brief, terse comments. And Harry having crashed into him, God, the skin contact, the electricity that had seemed to pass through them, Draco would dwell on that all week. That's what would get him through. That's probably what would save Harry's life, and stop Draco taking him, there and then.

"Yeah, right, of course, sorry..." said Harry. _Sorry! What am I saying sorry for! _ he thought to himself, picking his books which had spilled onto the floor and following Draco towards the door of the potions classroom.

They made it just in time, with Snape bursting in not five seconds after them. Going their separate ways, Harry found his seat and pulled out his potions books and a quill.  They had been back at school two weeks, and as far as Harry was concerned that was two weeks of potions too many. He felt his eyes getting heavy, and propping his head up on his hand, he yawned and rubbed his eyes, wanting to be able to slip back into his dream.

"Mr Potter!"

Harry's eyes flew open, and his head whipped up to face the Potions Master, Professor Snape.

"Look around this classroom," continued Professor Snape. "Well?"

"Well what, sir?"

"Do you see any pillows? Or beds, perhaps?" said Snape, his eyes narrowing. He was clearly enjoying this and Harry had the feeling he was about to lose both house points and free time. "Maybe you would like me to conjure one out of thin air, for your convenience?"

"No, sir, sorry sir," mumbled Harry, his face flushing a deep red.

"10 points for every minute you were asleep, that makes... oo, 60 points from Gryffindor. Tut, tut, what a way to start the year, Mr Potter. You shall also attend detention. Let's say 7.30pm, tonight. You're not busy, are you?" said Snape, his mouth moving into a smile, and his eyebrows arching. He knew perfectly well that Harry had Quidditch practice that evening, and it pleased him to deprive Gryffindor of its Seeker for a training session. If he was lucky, perhaps Potter would fall asleep more often in this class, then maybe Slytherin would be in with a chance of winning the house cup. Moving back to the front of the class, Snape turned and aimed an icy glare towards the Gryffindors, which only slightly melted as he eyes moved over his Slytherin students. "Back to work, or I'll have you all in detention."

The rest of the potions lesson passed without incident. Harry got on quietly with his work, hoping to not draw any more attention to himself. He looked up a couple of times, and was sure he saw Draco turn back down to his work too quickly, as if he'd been staring at Harry. Putting it out of his mind, Harry continued working.

Soon, the class was over, Harry picked up his books, and hurried out with the rest of his friends, before Snape could take any more house points from him.


	3. Panic

Disclaimer – Do I still have to do this *rolls eyes*? Oh, well, here we go: I don't own any of these characters – they are all the brilliant creations of J. K. Rowling.

A/N – Oh my, don't you just hate writers block! I have no idea where this chapter is going. I wanted to do something from Harry's POV, but it's just not happening tonight. I'm posting this in the hope that it will start writing itself again, because I'm finding all the little filler-inner-bits really hard. You just don't think about all the details when you're at work daydreaming the day away...

And I know it's been ages, I've been busy busy and on holiday too (skiing in Italy – yum!), but that's all no excuse, and I apologise deeply to my lovely reviewers. I hope this will keep you at bay, at least until I can get back on track.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* 

Lamia – Chapter 3

Draco POV

_Where is it? It has to be here! It has to be! _ thought Draco.

It was lunchtime, and finding an empty classroom, Draco felt the need to confide the morning's events, the successful skin contact in his only source of comfort, the only thing that knew his secrets and wouldn't judge him; his journal.

Draco thrust his hand into his satchel to be greeted by bits of homework, potions books, a jar containing sweets the colour of blood, a bottle of ink and the sharp end of his quill. "Ouch!" said Draco, breathing in sharply as the quill caught the tip of his finger. Pulling his hand out of his bag, Draco looked at the blood on his finger. _Dark red, not good_ Draco thought, frowning at his index finger before putting it to his mouth. 

Diving into the bag with his free hand, Draco began pulling out his books one by one.

Two minutes later, he sat with the entire contents of his bag on the desk in front of him.He felt the panic slowly rising and tried to breath deeply to calm himself. It was no use getting worked up, especially with his blood this dark, but he couldn't help it. The more Draco thought of his book, his journal, lost somewhere, the more unsettled he felt. It was like he'd left a piece of himself somewhere, it wasn't right that it wasn't with him. His heart was thudding heavily in his chest. _What if someone else has it? What if they've found it? Worse still, what if they've read it? _Draco began to feel light headed, like he wasn't getting enough air.

Uncorking the jar with the blood red sweets in it, Draco fished one out and popped it into his mouth. After the sweet had dissolved, Draco felt much calmer and focused. Running through the day in his head, he realised the last time he'd seen his book was in the corridor as he'd waited for his prey to 'accidentally' bump into him. Feeling his heart plummet to his stomach, Draco realised what must have happened. Harry must have picked up the journal.  

Draco began to feel sick. If he hadn't have already been sitting, he would have crumpled to the floor, his legs were like jelly and his hands were shaking slightly as they pushed his hair back from his forehead. _How could I have been so stupid,_ thought Draco. _ If Harry's been able to get through the locking charm, open that book and read even just a tiny bit, I'm screwed. _Twisting in his seat, Draco threw up on the floor.

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* 

A/N – Please review! I'm losing heart...need some encouragement, criticisms, praise, insults, anything!


	4. Lunch

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. I am not Bloomsbury, Scholastic or Warner Bros personified. I do not own Harry Potter. I do not have much money (in fact, as of today, I have precisely £3 in my bank account, and that's not including my debts). Please don't sue me! Thanks!

A/N: Eeeek! I'm just plodding on...

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers. Some of you mentioned a twist in the story. _A twist? A twist?_ I said, _where?! I'm not clever enough or forward-thinking enough to write a twist into a story._ Then I realised, you meant the whole Draco not having his journal anymore. _Ahh, a twist!_ I wrote it without even realising, perhaps this story is not doomed after all!

~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~* ~*

Lamia – Chapter 4 

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Draco. Just thinking about his book in the hands of another, let alone Harry Potter made him feel dizzy.

Harry, on the other hand, found the remainder of his day pass much as any other day did. Potions was by far the worst of his subjects that day, and he had come out of that relatively unscathed. Only 60 house points lost for Gryffindor and one detention. Not bad considering the foul mood Snape had been in since term started.

Glancing up at the teacher's table during lunch, Harry saw Snape push back his plate, get up and turn to leave the hall. Making eye contact, Harry scowled at the potions master who returned that scowl with a malicious smile that played at the corner of his mouth. Snape even seemed to stride off with a kind of jaunt to his step, evidently in a much better mood now that he had deprived his least favourite student of free time and Quidditch practice.

Harry was quickly pulled out of his thoughts of detention with Snape by a loud noise coming from near his elbow. Startled, Harry looked round to see Hermione slamming another pile of books down next to Ron. Harry looked at his pile, then at Ron's, whose was about the same size at 3 ft high. He was about to protest when he saw Hermione's 4ft high pile of books stacked precariously on the table. 

"Merlin's beard, Hermione, have you just borrowed the whole library? How did you carry all that? I hope you're not expecting me to read all of them tonight!" exclaimed Ron, eyeing the books with a look he normally reserved for something really smelly or Slytherin students.

"They're for Binn's History of Magic essay. It's worth 10% of our final mark!" said Hermione, noting the questioning looks on Harry's and Ron's faces.

"Okaaay," said Ron, stretching out the last syllable as if Hermione had gone mad. "You do realise that it's not due until after Easter, don't you?" he continued, "And it's only just October now..."

"Well, yes, but it's never too early to start. What if you left it all to the last minute and something terrible happened so you couldn't finish it?!"

"Something terrible like what, Hermione? All the books being taken out by other people? The library being blown up by an ambitious but inept first year?" replied Ron, his voice raising a little as he got into his stride.

Hermione visibly paled at the suggestion of the library being blown up, and then looked Ron directly in the eye. "Look, it wouldn't hurt to do a bit of background reading now, would it? Anyway, I've dug all these books out now, and you **_are_ **going to read at least one of them, Ronald Weasley, or I'll cast a sticking charm and superglue your nose to the inside of the largest, heaviest book there!"

Ron, realising he was beaten and that Hermione may very well carry out her threat, backed down and turned back to his lunch. Scowling and grumbling into his sandwiches he didn't say another word. 

Harry, who had been watching their exchange, shook his head and laughed. "You two!" he said, "You're like a pair of children! Either that or like two bad characters in a soap opera who spend half their time shouting at each other and the rest of their time shagging like rabbits!"

Ron and Hermione whipped their heads round and both glared at Harry. Feeling like a rabbit himself, although one caught in the headlights rather than in the throws of passion, Harry averted his eyes, mumbled an apology and hid behind his pile of books.

Finishing their lunches, and the earlier conversation mostly forgotten, they decided to put most of the books up in the Gryffindor common room. Harry was wondering how exactly they were going to carry everything when Hermione came to their rescue casting a spell to make the three piles of books bob along behind them.

* * *

A/N: Next chappie will follow very soon. I think this is an in-between kinda chapter, it's needed to set up future-type-events (I have a vague plan!!!) I had some inspiration (kicked my muses up the bum – seemed to work!) Tell me what you think of the Hermione/Ron interaction – I won't be doing that a lot, but thought it made the fic more 3D by having other people in it (rather than just Harry's/Draco's thoughts going round in circles).


	5. Detention With Snape

Disclaimer: I own the various plot bunnies found in this story, but I do not own the Characters, Quidditch or Hogwarts in any way. They belong to J K Rowling and I am not making any money by borrowing them. 

A/N: Well, I was gonna be really mean and leave this on a bit of a cliffy for you, but I won't do that, as the next instalment is in my head but not on paper yet, and I don't get enough regular time to sit and write. Thankyou to everyone who's still following this fic! Big hugs! ( )( )( )( )( )

Lamia Chapter 5 – Detention With Snape 

"I want that wall of shelving units, and the items on them, to be cleaned, by hand, thoroughly and an inventory compiled detailing what is there and the condition it is in. Make sure you do it all properly, I wouldn't want you to have to do it all again..." said Snape pointedly to Harry, indicating a dark wall to his left that was swathed in cobwebs and shadows. The objects on the shelves looked like they hadn't been used in centuries, and varied from medium sized cauldrons to empty vials, scales and other measuring devices.

Turning abruptly, Snape returned to his desk, gave Harry another glare and turned to the pile of parchment in front of him.

Sighing quietly, Harry picked up a tatty old rag and, starting at the top, began carefully taking each item down from the shelves. Gritting his teeth, Harry began his task and thought of what he could, no, what he _should_ be doing. He had been looking forward to Quidditch practice. It was one of the only times he could get away from everything and be completely free. He didn't have to think about anything; not about the latest assignments; not about being 'Harry Potter – The Saviour of the Wizarding World' and the task in front of him; not about what seemed to be happening between Ron and Hermione; not about his own confused feelings when it came to girls, or even boys for that matter. It just wasn't fair that Snape could take the one time when he was truly free away from him.

Finding the skeleton of what looked like a small mouse, he was tempted to throw it away, but decided to list it along with every thing else. It would be just his luck to throw away a potential potion ingredient and for Snape to put him in detention every evening for the remainder of the year.

Both Snape and Harry worked in silence for the next three hours, and Harry was coming nearer to the bottom of the shelves and the end of his detention when the door to the dungeon suddenly flew open, and slammed loudly against the wall.

Startled Harry turned to see Draco walking up to Snape's desk. He was clutching his chest and seemed to be panting, as if he'd been running and was now out of breath.

"Professor..."

"Draco. How unexpected to see you here at this hour." said Snape, one eyebrow raised, questioning Draco's presence and appearance. "What can I do for you, or was it perhaps Mr Potter you wanted to speak to?" Snape phrased it as a question, so as to remind Draco that Harry was there, and that certain topics were, as such, not to be brought up.

Draco's eyes widened. "What!?"  Breathing in sharply, Draco frowned and his thoughts became jumbled in his mind, trying to work out why Snape would mention Harry.  _Wh_at _does he know? Why has he brought up Harry? What has Harry found out and told him?_

Snape, noticing Draco's look of confusion and what looked to Snape like fear, repeated his question. "Was it myself you required, or Mr Potter, who has kindly joined me in detention this evening?"

Letting out an audible sigh of relief, Draco remembered Snape had given Harry detention earlier on that day in potions. So much had happened since then, it was no surprise that morning felt a million miles away. Everything had been fine then. Blood was a little on the dark side, but Draco's secrets were not about to be discovered, and he wasn't the complete irrational mess that he seemed to be now. "Oh, er, it was you I needed to speak to, Sir."

"Very well. What can I help you with?" questioned Snape.

"Er, well, Sir, I needed some of the... er..." Draco paused, and looked over to where Harry was standing, polishing a pair of scales. Seeing that Harry seemed completely immersed in his task, Draco continued, whispering just in case Harry could hear him, "Some of more _Suule Ondolin_, Sir. I haven't been feeling well, it's been... hard to breathe... and I think they could get me through, at least until... well, until something better comes along."

Breathing in sharply, Snape narrowed his eyes and looked at his Slytherin student. How long had Draco been feeling like this, he wondered. Snape knew that for Draco to get to this stage he was putting not only his own health in danger, but also the lives of those around him. Pursing his lips, he got up from his desk and strode out the door behind him, into his private office, where he opening a locked cupboard and began rooting around amongst the various glass jars and boxes.

Harry, who had been polishing the same bit of the scales for the past five minutes, replaced the item on the shelves and moved on to the next. This movement allowed him to quietly exhale the breath he had been holding in an effort to eavesdrop on Draco and Snape's conversation. He knew it was wrong, but couldn't help himself, something was going on here. Draco had been acting strangely since lunchtime. He was too quiet, no snide remarks or threats. Harry had even caught Draco staring at him once or twice, and Draco had looked quickly away. _Too quickly_ thought Harry, _that's how I know he was staring at me._

Turning, Harry placed the next item on the desk in front of him. This gave him the chance to look at Draco, who had backed up from Snape's desk and sat down heavily on the nearest bench. _He looks pale. Well, paler than usual._ thought Harry. _And he's breathing too quickly, like he's hyperventilating. Why would he come to Snape if he's not well. Why not Madame Pomfrey?_

Draco could feel Harry's eyes on him. Raising his head, he tried to glare at Harry, though it was much harder than when he was his usual calm composed self. The glare seemed to want to melt, and Draco could feel a warm feeling settling in his chest, and a lump forming in his throat. Draco averted his gaze, in case Harry read too much into his expression, he had enough problems already, and didn't need Harry guessing Draco's true feelings for him. That would be too much.

Snape returned and placed a jar of dark red sweets in front of Draco. "These will have to do for now, until a more _satisfying_ solution can be arranged for your condition. Let me know if you need any more."

Draco grabbed the jar, and looked at Snape. "Thank you, Sir". With that he turned, headed towards the door and out into the corridor, closing the door behind him.

Harry looked over at Snape. He knew he wouldn't get any sort of explanation from him, but couldn't help himself. "Is Draco okay, Professor Snape? Shouldn't he go to Madame Pomfrey if he's not feeling well?"

"It's none of your business, Mr Potter, whether Draco chooses to go to Madame Pomfrey or his Head of House. Now get back to work".

Sighing, Harry resumed cleaning the bowl in front of him. _Something is going on,_ he thought, _and I'm witness to it now. If something happens to Draco because he didn't get his 'condition' seen to by Madame Pomfrey, it's not just Snape's fault, but mine too. I can't ignore what I overheared,_ Harry told himself._ If I can, I've got to help, _decided Harry, _It's my duty now._

~*~*~*~


	6. The Body, The Bite

Disclaimer: Well, in case you didn't know, I'm not J.K. Rowling. I'm me. And I don't own the HP universe. I'm just borrowing it… 

A/N: Yey! Another chapter! And all is revealed… or is it…

Lamia Chapter 6 – The Body, The Bite

Leaving detention later that night, Harry was still pondering what the conversation between Snape and Draco was all about. Rounding a corner, Harry was so lost in thought, he didn't see what was stretched out on the floor in front of him. The first Harry knew of it was when his foot caught something, and he tripped, landing hard on to whatever it was on the floor. Rolling over, Harry looked at what had caused him to trip. 

"Oh, shit", he exclaimed, realising it was a body. _Please let it be breathing, please let it be breathing,_ Harry chanted over and over in his head. A cold shiver ran through Harry as he remembered the last dead body he'd been in close contact with. _Please let it be breathing, please let it be breathing. _Images of Cedric, eyes vacant, mouth open, clashed and collided in his head, blurring his vision. Staring at the body, Cedric's eyes seemed to pierce the darkness of the corridor and it took nearly a full minute for Harry to shake that image and realise he was looking at the back of someone's head, and that this could not possibly be Cedric. That had happened well over a year ago he told himself.

Reaching out one hand, Harry pushed the body, rolling it onto its back.

"Draco...!" he gasped, brushing the boy's blond hair away from his face. Next to Draco's hand, Harry noticed a small empty jar. _Fuck,_ thought Harry, _that's what Snape gave him... he's overdosed on something..._

Draco felt a hand on his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. His breathing was shallow. He felt like shit. The _Ondolin_ hadn't helped at all. There was one thing he needed. One thing that would satisfy him, and make this pain, this shortness of breath go away. Blood.

Harry's face swarmed into focus, looming above him. _Too bad it's you, Harry, _thought Draco, _I guess tonight is not you night... don't worry it'll only hurt for a moment..._

Mustering all the energy and breath he could, Draco sprang up, grabbing Harry in a bear hug. His face nuzzled into Harry's neck, and his lips pulled back, revealing two extremely sharp incisors. Holding Harry still, Draco bit into Harry's vein and began to drink. He could feel the difference almost immediately, a warmth was coursing through his body and his chest, which had been tight, became relaxed allowing Draco to breath more freely.

As Draco drank deeper and deeper something strange began to happen. Something that had never happened before. He knew he should stop, at this rate he could leave Harry so drained of blood he could die. But thoughts of what he should be doing were overridden by the images and colours swirling in his mind. Draco tried to hold back, he could hear and feel the beat of Harry's heart slowing down.

"_Draco, what are you doing to me?"_

Draco felt the question float into his head. This was new. This wasn't supposed to happen. They, The Prey, never spoke to him like that... not through his mind...

"_Draco, it's beautiful here, what is this place? The colours, the feeling of floating... it's like I can see your soul..."_ Again, Harry's voice wafted through Draco's mind.

_"It is my soul. And yours. And this doesn't usually happen…"_ Summoning all the effort he could, Draco stopped drinking. 

He felt strong, powerful and refreshed. But despite that, the fact remained that he had been severely weakened, had collapsed and lay prone and vulnerable for the best part of an hour. Looking up and down the corridor, Draco reached out with all his senses. His pupils widened, and his hearing sharpened, as he swept every nook and cranny of the corridor. If there was anyone hiding, anyone who had seen what he'd done, they wouldn't stay hidden for long. Even an invisibility cloak had its flaws, and couldn't protect the wearer against making any sound, or giving off that faint human odour that Draco, in his heightened state, could easily detect.

Satisfied that they were alone, Draco stood and pulled Harry up to a near standing position. He kicked open the door of a nearby classroom and pulled the unconscious Harry in, laying his prey gently on the floor.

Focusing on Harry, Draco could hear the steady beat of Harry's heart and his rhythmic breath. _Too much_, thought Draco. _I took too much. But he's strong, he'll wake up soon with a rotten headache and I'll be here, waiting, when he does…_


	7. Caught

Disclaimer: Don't own! Don't sue!

AN: Eeeeek, it's been far too long since updating this story, and for that I apologise. The next chapter is written but I am having trouble with Chapter 9. I've had some plot bunnies floating around for a little while. Finally, the story seems to have a direction!

* * *

Lamia Chapter 7 Caught

"He's been gone for hours, Hermione! I'll bet Snape's got him held prisoner or something, and is planning on handing him over to You Know Who first chance he gets," said Ron, springing from his chair and pacing in front of the fireplace for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

He and Hermione were the last students in the Gryffindor common room and it was now well past midnight.

Hermione sighed and looked up from her book. "Dumbledore trusts Snape, so we should too, Ron. He's on our side now, not Voldemort's" she replied, rolling her eyes as Ron involuntarily cringed at the name. "Honestly Ron, it's just a name! Would you flinch like that all the time if his name was Flopsy-Wopsey or, I dunno, Betty," she continued, "I'm sure Harry's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, besides, I don't think we need to worry about Snape, it's Draco Malfoy I'm keeping my eye on".

"Malfoy! Why him?"

"I'm not too sure yet. I can't quite put my finger on it. He's just been acting differently lately. He's not hanging out with those oafs he calls friends, he looks dreadful, and well, maybe I'm just imagining it…" said Hermione, shifting uncomfortably in the sofa.

"What, what is it?"

"Well, the other day I saw him looking at Harry…"

"So, people look at Harry all the time, he's 'The Boy Who Lived'"

"But it was more than just looking… it was like Draco was focusing entirely on Harry. There was this bizarre look on his face, complete concentration, or, I dunno, some sort of hunger. Draco didn't seem to be taking anything else in around him, he was just sat there staring at Harry. He hardly blinked and his eyes were all kind of silvery." Hermione shivered, despite the roaring fire in the grate in front of her. "Maybe it was just the light, but it gave me the creeps Ron. Made me go cold. He looked like some kind of wild animal, and for a moment, I thought of whipping out my wand in case he attacked. Stupid, huh…" said Hermione, offering Ron a weak, lopsided smile.

Ron laughed uneasily. "Yeah, 'spect it was nothing, really, just Draco being half asleep or something…" he continued, looking away into the fire.

"I'm going to bed. I've got far too much homework to think at the moment, and I do not want to have nightmares about Draco!"

"Okay, Hermione. I'll probably go up myself soon…" replied Ron, turning his attention back towards the fire's flames.

Harry came round about four hours after falling over Draco in the hallway. His head was foggy and his mouth was dry. Shifting slowly, his muscles and body ached from lying on the cold hard floor. Blinking, his eyes slowly adjusted to light coming from a candle on a desk in the centre of the room.

He shifted on to his side, grunting as his stiffened muscles protested. Pushing himself up to a sitting position, the room began to spin and a dull thud started up in Harry's head. He closed his eyes, and paused before looking up and squinting out into the dark room. The glow of the candle did little to the long shadows growing from the corners and sides of the room, and with no other options, Harry got up and moved towards the light.

Reaching for the candle, Harry paused and stiffened. He felt like he was being watched. Standing in the only light in the room, he felt like he had walked into the spotlight on a stage, and that in the shadows there was an audience, waiting, watching.

Grasping the candle, Harry lifted it high in the air, banishing the surrounding shadows to their hiding places.

"Where do shadows go to hide?" came a voice from behind Harry.

Whirling round, Harry directed the light in the direction of the voice. Again, the shadows retreated, and Harry was left staring at the tables, chairs, brick walls and floors that made up this dusty, unused room.

A chuckle sounded to his left.

Spinning sharply, Harry raised the candle.

Draco Malfoy stepped into the light. "You know, you are a wizard, Potter, you do have a better weapon than that candle. I can think of one that would be much more effective in disarming me…"

"Malfoy…" said Harry. He placed the candle on the low table that stood between them, and dropped his hands to his sides, feeling for his wand in his jeans pocket. It was still there, and Malfoy would have taken it if this were some kind of revenge attack or ambush. "Where are we?" said Harry, his voice wary.

"Don't worry, I haven't kidnapped you or anything. We're in one of the old prefects' study rooms in the dungeons. Want a seat? It's a bit old and musty, but that sofa is incredibly comfortable. You could almost lose yourself in there."

Not taking his eyes off Draco, Harry moved towards the sofa. Looking briefly down at the aging, patchwork covers of the sofa, he wondered if there were 'things' living in there. It was never good to have 'things' living in your furniture. The muggle 'things' were bad enough, fleas, lice, bugs, cockroaches, etc, but he didn't even want to think of the wizarding world's 'things'. He resumed eye contact with Draco and sat tentatively on the edge of the sofa.

Draco plopped down next to him, and Harry had to immediately lean back to stop from falling off the seat. The sofa immediately enveloped him. It was like having a warm hug from your most favourite person in the world. Despite the unusual situation he was in, Harry immediately felt himself relax, and the thud in his head seemed to ease.

_Here goes nothing_ thought Harry, and he asked the question that had been buzzing around in his head since his detention. "Draco, are you okay?" It felt strange talking normally to his supposed sworn enemy, but remembering the way Draco had acted in the classroom with Snape, and after finding him on the floor in the hall, it didn't feel right to Harry to start fighting with Draco. Almost as if it were unfair, like Draco might perhaps be broken or at a disadvantage, and that the duel would be one-sided and biased because of that.

"Don't I look okay? I feel fine, thank you. Much more refreshed. I realise it's quite unexpected, given my earlier state this evening" responded Draco. Immediately he regretted having brought up his condition earlier. _It would be better for Harry if he forgot as much of that as possible_, thought Draco to himself.

"You were on the floor though. Practically dead. Well, at least I _thought_ you might be dead..."

"...yeah, and I'd bet you'd love that wouldn't you, Potter! Me dead and out of your way forever!" spat Draco, instinctively.

Silence followed. The candle danced in a soft breeze, and Harry turned to watch the flame. "Sorry. I didn't mean I wished you were dead, I was just shocked when I found you" he said, not daring to look at Draco.

Draco didn't reply. He sat in silence, next to Harry. He didn't trust himself at this moment to say anything polite or civil to him, and yet this was the moment he'd been waiting for. A chance away from those two wannabes that Harry hung out with. "Sorry".

Looking up at Draco, Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. He thought he'd just heard Draco Malfoy say the 'S' word to him. He never thought he'd hear that. Something had definitely changed over the summer. Deciding not to push his luck, Harry turned his eyes back to the candle, and tried to think of something to say. He didn't want to revert back to the arguing and bickering that he and Draco had been engaged in since they first met 5 years ago. It reminded him of Hermione and Ron. And as they looked like they were going to end up an item, Harry didn't quite know what that meant for his and Draco's relationship. Truth was, Harry was scared. _Draco Malfoy… he's practically Voldemort's number three, just after Lucius Malfoy, his Deatheater father…_ thought Harry, _and I can't stop thinking about him…_. He sighed.

An uncomfortable silence descended into the room and both boys sat, staring into the flame.

"Draco, what happened out in the corridor?" asked Harry.

_Careful_ thought Draco to himself. _He may not remember much, and that could be to his and my own advantage_. "What do you think happened?" Draco responded.

"Well, you were in the corridor, on the floor, and I fell over you… and then… it went all strange… there were all these colours, pinks, purples, reds… a lot of red… and I could hear your voice… and I thought for a minute you were…" Harry stopped. He had been about to say that he thought Draco had been kissing him, and he was pretty sure Draco would curse him into a million pieces if he suggested something like that.

"That I was what?" prompted Draco.

"It's nothing, really. I must have hit my head when I fell. Passed out or something. Huh, imagine that, us two lying next to each other on the floor! Must of looked very strange to anyone who didn't know we hated each other!"

"Do you really hate me?" queried Draco. He almost didn't want to know the answer. Didn't want to have his hopes dashed. Didn't want Harry to tell him that there was no chance of them ever being together.

Harry paused and looked at Draco. Draco's face was half hidden in shadow, and the candlelight made the usually pale, cold angles of his face look soft and warm. His blond hair fell into his eyes, which seemed to sparkle silver instead of their usual grey. "No," he replied. "No, I don't hate you. And I don't think I ever did. Not really. I am beginning to see you in a whole new light, and, if I'm honest, I have a feeling about you that I've never had about anyone else before."

Draco twisted in his seat to face Harry. He held his breath and looked deep into Harry's emerald green eyes. Leaning forward, Draco brushed his lips lightly against Harry's. Harry found himself leaning forward and returning the kiss. Eyes closed, lips together, it was like electricity, an instant connection, sparks flying, a kiss that could last forever. Until…

"HARRY!"

The door stood open and framed in the light from the corridor stood… no one. No one, that is, except a pair of feet and a cry that sounded an awful lot like Ron. Harry's invisibility cloak dropped to the floor, leaving an open-mouthed Ron standing in the doorway, totally shocked and unprepared for what he had just seen.

Draco was on his feet in an instant. Lightning fast, he pulled out his wand and aimed it at Ron. "In, now, shut the door, and shut up." Ron did exactly what he was told. He was still trying to understand what he had just witnessed.

Harry got up from the sofa, and moved between Ron and Draco. "Put your wand away," he instructed Draco. "Put your wand away!" he repeated, as Draco started to walk around him. "Malfoy. Put it away!"

Draco looked at Harry. The use of the name Malfoy had brought him down to earth, fast. Harry was his enemy. Nothing could change that. But to harm Ron would be to harm Harry. Looking into Harry's eyes Draco said "Not a word of this gets out. You understand. If I hear so much as a whisper that your weasel has said anything, I'll kill him. And I mean it." Walking past Harry, Draco stalked up to Ron. "Did you hear that Weasel? One word and you're dead." Draco turned to the door, flung it open and stormed out.


	8. Consumption Resumption

**Disclaimer:** Don't own Harry Potteror the HP universe.I'm just borrowing them! 

**A/N:** Well, you have myniephoenix to thank for this chapter – I got the review, and just wanted you guys to know that the story isn't dead, it's just been sleeping. _Lamia_ is mostly still asleep, although I do have a few more chapters up my sleeves. Until next time folks!

* * *

**Lamia - Chapter 8 -Consumption Resumption**

Snape prowled around his office in the dungeons, snatching jars containing different coloured glutinous liquids from the shelves and rattling boxes containing the dry components for his potion from the cupboards. Ingredients were tossed onto the desk in a haphazard fashion and Snape cursed under his breath when one of the jars rolled off the desk and onto the floor, smashing into glittering pieces that pointed sharply towards the ceiling. The contents of the jar evaporated on the floor in a small puff of purple smoke and Snape stopped pacing and walked over to the smashed jar. He knelt to the side of it, and picked up one of the larger pieces of the jar.

The glass shard seemed to smile wickedly at him, daring him, as if it had a will of its own, and a malicious intent towards anyone that crossed its path. Snape stood, walked over to his leather-bound high-backed chair and sat, staring at the shard. Slowly, without quite realising it, he hitched the sleeve covering his left arm up, and transferred his gaze from the glass shard to the dark mark burned into his forearm. The mark was shaped like a skull and had a snake coming out of the mouth, as if it were a grotesque tongue. Snape's eyes surveyed his arm. There were other marks on it, as well as the Dark Mark he had been given. These other marks were not given to him by someone else. They were made by his own hand. Most of them were deadly straight, parallel next to each other, pale in colour, old scars. But a few curved cruelly in semi-circles, evil grins for evil times. At one time these had been his favourites, it was harder to draw a perfect semi-circle, and these had been an accomplishment. Of sorts.

Snape sighed. What was he doing here? Looking at his old scars, holding the glass shard loosely in his hand. He didn't need this. He hadn't done this for a long time. Just because the Dark Mark was burning hotter and hotter as time went on, didn't mean he should resort to his old methods of coping. He was past that. He was a professor now. For a wild moment, Snape contemplated grinding the glass shard into the Dark Mark on his arm. The Mark that wasn't his. The Mark that he hated the most. The Mark that made him hate himself more than any other. He could scratch it out, get rid of it, be free. But Snape knew he couldn't do that. It wouldn't work. The Mark was protected. He'd tried scratching it out before, tried to get to the skin underneath the Mark, but it seemed that the Mark was etched into his very soul. It was enchanted to heal the skin and come back clearer than ever before. It also told the Dark Lord, Master of the Dark Mark, what had happened. Snape remembered clearly facing the Dark Lord last time he'd tried to destroy the Mark. He'd had to answer for his disloyalty, painfully. After that, despite what he'd told Lord Voldemort, Snape had sought out the only person who had ever offered support and understanding, the only person he knew who didn't judge people based on what house they were in, or their blood-line, or their past actions. He'd sought out Dumbledore, and turned spy.

Shaking his head abruptly, as if clearing it from his thoughts, Snape threw the glass shard towards the bin, and spectacularly missed. The shard skidded past the bin, and fled under the shelving unit.

"And that is why you were never in the Quidditch team, Severus" said a voice from the doorway.

"Lucius!" said Snape, startled. He inwardly cursed himself for drifting off into his own thoughts, what if Lucius had been a student, and had seen his arm! "How long have you been standing there?" said Snape, turning away in his seat and yanking down the sleeve of his robes.

"Long enough to see you pondering something stupid, Severus. You can't do that again, you know that don't you. He'd kill you this time, Merlin knows he nearly did last time you scraped half your arm off with that blade you used to carry," responded Lucius, stepping into the room, and closing the door.

"It wasn't half my arm, you're being dramatic. It was nothing, really… just a scratch… or two…"

"Yes, well. It was foolish. And I hope you're not planning a repeat of that. I have great plans for you and me, but first, I think you know why I'm here," said Lucius.

"More pills? Draco was here earlier on too. My supplies are running low, I'll have to make some more"

"Draco was here? How was he?"

"Not good, he's getting through the _Ondolin_ too quickly. If I were you I'd be worried. If they aren't working anymore, he's going to need blood to get enough oxygen into his system. And you and I both know a hormonal, desperate, blood-thirsty, teenage Vampire is not going to be able to maintain cover in Hogwarts for long if he starts biting everyone he sees," replied Snape.

In an instant, Lucius drew his wand and blasted Snape backwards to the wall. "He is _NOT_ a Vampire! He is my son, and he is of the highest order, he is a Lamia, his line is longer and older and much more superior to yours, and when the war comes, Severus, I hope you remember that, and I hope you remember your place in the food-chain."

Snape stayed on the floor where he had fallen. Blood seeped from the back of his head, and he felt momentarily dizzy.

"I don't think I shall be collecting any _Ondolin_ today, thank you Severus. Instead, I'd much rather we resumed our old relationship. You do remember that don't you? Come here…" ordered Lucius Malfoy, his wand outstretched.

Snape felt himself pulled towards Lucius and was caught in an embrace. Lucius had sheathed his wand, and gently, as with a lover, he tilted Snape's head to one side, and nuzzled into his neck. The veins in Snape's neck stood out prominently and he felt two pinpricks as Lucius sank his teeth in and began to drink.

* * *

**A/N:** So, that was chapter 8, hope you liked it. Please review! 


End file.
